Second Chances
by DarkAngelLillith
Summary: The Knight Commander goes to Denerim to get his First Enchanter back to the Tower. Takes place after Vigil.


**Disclaimer:**I do not own Dragon Age

**A/N: **Takes place shortly after Vigil though you can read it without having read the first one.

**A/N 2:** While I was playing, Alistair and Wynne kept having these conversations about Wynne's life. I just had to write something about it. Sadly, the pairing is made up, as far as I know, because Wynne never said who was the father of her son.

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**Second Chances**

He marched through the palace as if he owned the place. His mind set on finding her and taking her back to the tower. There was a Circle to rebuild and, as the oldest mage to survive, she was to be their First Enchanter. He could always force her to return, but he'd rather go through the proper channels first before using force. Thus, the reason he was trying to find the new king and tell him of their need to get their First Enchanter back before actually talking to the mage in question.

The Templar approached the room where, if the servant he asked was right, he would find the king. The Knight Commander stopped as two voices came out of the room. One, the most agitated of the pair though slightly familiar, must have been the king. The other, the unmistakable voice of the woman he came to retrieve.

"Are you quite done?" came her voice and Greagoir could envision her with her hands on her hips and that unimpressed glint in her eyes that made the most seasoned of mages and Templars uncomfortable.

"Is old age beginning to damage your hearing? Because I'm sure you didn't hear what I said," the king replied, sounding more like a sulking teenager than the ruler of a country.

He knew he could either knock and make his presence known or leave and try to meet with the man later. Instead, he found himself rooted on the same spot, unable stop listening to the conversation even while he mentally recited all the reasons why what he was doing was wrong.

"I heard you just fine, Alistair," she replied and Greagoir's heart clenched painfully as he recognized the affection coating her words, "Have you asked her why she would do such a thing?

"Because I'm so dumb I didn't think to ask, right?" the man drawled, "She says… Maker's breath, Wynne, she says she'd rather live as my scullery maid. I thought women dreamt of being queens not maids."

Wynne laughed, that happy and carefree laugh that used to take his breath away and Greagoir clenched his teeth until it hurt as the memory of the last time he heard her laugh assaulted him.

"Human women perhaps, but you have to remember she's not human. It has been my experience that elves seldom get their happy endings, Alistair. Humans are the ones to marry their knights in shining armor, after all."

That comment startled him and reminded him of a promise made long ago. He didn't know that the king was planning on marrying an elf. Not that he thought badly of them, considering the Templars pretty much owed their lives to one. It was the man's courage that surprised him. To go against the noble's views of what was proper required much courage for a newly chosen king. Especially one with such a colorful origin if the rumors going around were to be believed.

"What part of I didn't finish my training don't you lot understand. Sure, I wear the armor, but you have to admit it does enhance my devastatingly good looks."

"If it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck, my dear Alistair, it is a duck."

"I'm more of a dog person myself," the king said and Greagoir waited for Wynne's reply. Instead, he was rewarded with sounds of people moving. The Knight Commander wished he could see what was happening in that room. He wasn't jealous, or he tried to convince himself that he wasn't. The king was obviously in love with that elf of his. Besides, after what he did to her, he shouldn't feel jealous of anyone.

"She loves you. I know that. Everyone that has ever seen you together knows that. It is plain to see in both your eyes and actions," her words, laced with that caring tone, reminded him of times spent just gazing into her eyes. He remembered feeling as if he could drown in them. They used to sparkle whenever she looked at him. He trampled down the fury he felt by just thinking of the young king looking into her eyes and seeing what he gave up.

"Then why…"

"Ask her. Ask her why and don't give up on her. I can sense a deep hurt in her, though she has not confided in me. Perhaps that is the reason she refuses to marry. Perhaps it is not being a queen or marriage that frightens her, but the act itself. She never did tell us what happened to her first husband."

"She didn't even say she's been married. I'll have to be serious for this, right?" he said and it sounded as if he'd rather be tortured.

The thought should've amused him, but her chuckle brought him back to the present. The real reason he was here. To take her away from the place that made her happy again. To bring her back to the Circle and the memories that had seemed etched in the walls with sorrow and were now coated with newly made nightmares of screams and blood magic.

"I can already feel the Veil weakening around us at the mere thought of it."

Greagoir shivered as she uttered those words. A lifetime of training urging him to take his sword and strike her down. He knew she didn't mean those words, but never had a mage dared to say something like that within hearing of a Templar.

"If having me at the head of a country has not shattered the Veil completely and brought forth legions of hungry demons ready to make Ferelden their favorite vacationing spot, then I don't think me having a serious conversation will make a dent on it."

"I seem to recall battling an archdemon and the threat of a Blight when you became king. I'll be sure to gather the forces for battle while you go and talk to Leilani."

There was laughter and Greagoir paled as he realized the reason why he'd been so fascinated with the conversation. Finally able to command his body away from the closed door, he strode past servants and nobles alike not caring what they thought of him. He couldn't continue hearing them. Not when it suddenly hit him. The conversation was more like a young man looking to his mother for answers on everything concerning female behavior than a king asking for advice. This was what he lost. It felt like a battering ram to the chest.

He loved her though he knew he shouldn't. She loved him though she knew the same. And he'd been at her side ever since she survived her Harrowing. That laugh that she now shared with the king had once been solely his. But he'd placed duty before love and broke her heart slowly before finally shattering it in one single stroke; taking away her laugh and the sparkle in her eyes.

She never knew how hard it was for him to watch her get heavy with their child and being unable to touch her… kiss her… hold her… provide for her… marry her and give her a home. She never knew how it killed him to stand, sword ready to strike her down should anything happened, as the pain of a birth with complications threatened to take both away from him. She never knew how hard it was to take their son away from her weak hands and place them on the arms of the Revered Mother. She never knew he cried that night for everything he lost.

He never knew what happened to his son, though he still asked the Chantry whenever he could. He couldn't ask too many questions without the Chantry getting suspicious. Templars were not allowed to fraternize with mages and they'd been lucky their relationship had not been discovered. As far as he knew, the Chantry still believed the father of Wynne's son was another mage. For a time he entertained the idea of Cullen being their son, but the illusion shattered quickly when he learned the young Templar was a noble's son.

It would be hours later when he dared to entered the palace again. He had a job to do and the sooner he did it, the sooner he could be back to the tower. There, it was easier to remember the good his duty and vows brought to the world. Outside the tower the doubts and regrets came too often for his liking.

He saw her, wearing the most outrageous robe he'd ever seen in his life. He could feel his heart quicken at the sight of her flesh exposed to the world and the urge to cover her warred with the urge to stride to her side and kiss her in front of everyone. Maker's breath, she was still beautiful…

"Knight-Commander, is everything all right?" she asked, hurrying to his side, worry etched in her face at the sight of him.

Her words startled him and brought him away from the sudden rush of improper thoughts. He cast a glance behind her, realizing he knew the qunari that had been talking to her. Maybe the rumors that reached the tower of the king being a Grey Warden were true after all. It would explain Wynne's short letter of staying for a while as advisor to the king and the presence of the man within the palace's grounds.

But Wynne had asked a question and was still waiting for an answer. Her frown getting deeper as the silence grew. He never liked to see her frown, though it had been a long time since he saw her truly smile.

"Yes. Everything is all right," he began, heart hammering in his chest as her eyes locked with his. Andraste have mercy! He felt like he was twenty again and making a fool of himself in front of a beautiful lady, "I came to talk to you."

"I see…" she replied before turning to the qunari, "Sten, do me a favor and tell Alistair I'm having a meeting with Knight Commander Greagoir and will be late for dinner. I promise to make a special batch of cookies just for you, if you do."

The qunari regarded him silently for a moment, "As you wish," he said and left.

"You can speak now, Greagoir," she said and all the words died in his mouth.

She looked happier than he'd ever seen her. Her skin was tanned by the sun and had a healthy glow that no other mage, save apostates, had. Lack of exposure to the sun meant that most, if not all, mages developed a pale, almost sickly look. Wynne had thankfully never looked sick, but he remembered being able to trace the veins on her flesh with his fingertips.

"The Circle is ready to be rebuilt, Wynne," he finally spat out and he watched the sparkle in her eyes slowly die out.

"And you want me to return."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. She was a mage, after all, and mages belonged to the tower. He should've reminded her of this. He should've told her of the position she would have in the tower. But he couldn't utter the words. He didn't have the strength to break her heart again. Instead, he cupped her cheek in his armor clad hands. A faint smile on his face as she jumped; obviously surprised at the contact. Or maybe the metal was too cold.

"What I want has never mattered, Wynne. Otherwise, I…" the feel of her fingertips on his lips silenced him. They were as soft as he remembered them.

"Do not dwell on the past, Greagoir. Remember it, for we cannot truly forget that which made us who we are, but do not let the present pass you by either. Life is too short to drown on our regrets and sorrow."

Her words pierced his heart, "He is not our son," he said forcefully. He regretted saying that the second he uttered the words. He watched as she retreated from him, turning her back on him.

"I know that he isn't. Still I wonder what happened to him. Still I dream of recognizing his face amongst the crowd, though I know that is wishful thinking. I don't even know if he's alive or dead."

The pain in her voice... The way she hugged herself... Greagoir couldn't stop himself from gathering her in his arms. She allowed him to touch her and he did his best to comfort her. It took them many years, but they were finally grieving.

" I do not want to return," she whispered and, if he was honest with himself, neither did he.

A long time ago, he placed duty over love and spent the rest of his years regretting it. Today, faced with the same choices as years before, he couldn't gather the strength to choose the same.

"Then, you'll need a Templar at your side," he said, gathering the courage to do what his heart told him was right, "I vow to protect you with my life for as long as you shall have me."

He'd told her the same when he was younger. Though back then, there'd been more stammering and fumbling around through his words. She had smiled at him, just like she was smiling at him now as she repeated the words said long ago in secrecy.

"Forever, my knight. I would have you by my side, forever."

Through it all, he hadn't broken his promise. He'd been there, at her side, though their relationship had ended when her pregnancy was revealed. He'd watched her, protected her, and lived for her. He battled darkspawn for her at Ostagar. The day the abominations had overrun the tower, he'd been beside himself when he discovered she had stayed behind and he'd barred the doors. The moment she left with the Grey Wardens, had been the first, and only time, she'd been away from him.

He still loved her. Looking into her eyes and finding the sparkle in her eyes, told him she still loved him. He kissed her. Long years spent dreaming of this moment didn't prepare him for the rush of emotions that flooded him. Lust… Passion… Love…

"Hey, Wynne, have you seen…. Oh!"

They separated, faces red with embarrassment at being caught. Eyes riveted on the young man that seemed to be even more embarrassed to have found them.

"Don't… mind me… I just… I wanted to make sure… you were alright. Which you are. More than alright, I'd say. Though that's not bad, and aren't you a Templar by the way?"

Wynne laughed, making the Grey Warden blush even more. Greagoir was frozen in shock at being discovered just when he decided to throw caution and duty to the wind.

"I thought you knew each other. Knight Commander Greagoir was in charge of the tower," she began, and the Templar was amazed at how unfazed she was at the moment, "Knight Commander, I trust you remember King Alistair."

The young man was indeed one of the Grey Wardens that helped them out at the tower. For once the rumors seemed to be true. The man just blushed harder and fidgeted, as if still unused to the title.

"It is good to see you again, your majesty."

"He used to be a Templar too," the mage told him, surprising him and making him look at the king more closely.

"I thought that to be a Templar one needed to, you know, actually finish their training and taking their vows. It turns out all you need is the basics, pretty armor and a sword and shield. Who knew?"

The man wasn't their son, but Wynne loved him as if he was. And, truth be told, he couldn't help but wish his son was just like the man in front of him. The Grey Warden was strong, loyal and had the most interesting background he'd ever come across. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stay here and try to know him a little.


End file.
